


Escape from Bro Zone

by Hirrient



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: A blizzard, A very drunk slutty Dadsona, An Infamous Annual Christiansen Christmas Party, Craig's abandonment issues, Dads being vulnerable, Friends to Lovers, It's Amanda's world ya'll just living in it, M/M, Road Trip Bro, Some Angst with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-14 19:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11790375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hirrient/pseuds/Hirrient
Summary: When Craig Cahn's dorky fitness-dad Instagram explodes overnight he's thrown into a baffling world of fame and photoshoots. He's just a guy struggling to make the most of this strange new life of crazy work hours and feeling like a total fraud. That, and whatever unnamed thing is going on between him and his old college bro, Will— a lonely empty nester who’s not over his breakup with Joseph.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Amanda has started at college following on from the Joseph romance route where he totally dumps yo sorry ass. 
> 
> The story is told through alternating POVs between Will (Dadsona) & Craig. I've just gone ahead and all out signposted when POV changes to avoid confusion. Someone give me a literary prize. 
> 
> Everything I know about AMERICA is from tv land so if there are embarrassing blunders then you did this to yourselves and I'm not sorry, please direct all angry letters to your President, Netflix, & HBO. 
> 
> Comments/feedback always appreciated :~)

 

(POV: Will) 

Craig Cahn stands there, as bashful as he is naked.

He’s wearing shorts and runners and that’s it. That is, unless you count the thin film of sweat on his rippling muscles which is making it almost pornographic for me. I laugh off the tension as Amanda snaps away a hundred shots per second. Yes, that’s my daughter, making Craig a star.

No, he’s not _that_ kind of star, and I’m certainly not that kind of daddy.

The actual PG reason Craig is sweating is in part the bright set lights that are trained on him, but mostly it’s nerves. For someone as ripped, tall and handsome as this guy he’s pretty unsure of it. Despite his camera-shy awkwardness, it never seems to translate through the lens. I’m looking at Amanda’s laptop as the snaps come flooding in with every click. I’m trying to look like I know a good shot from a bad one. Amanda didn’t get her artistic eye from me, that’s certain. I bend down to squint closely like it might somehow illuminate something more to me. It achieves nothing except now I’m staring down Craig’s immortalised nipples and I can’t blink or else they will win. I throw up my hands in the air. All these photos look intimidatingly good enough to make me vow to never eat Doritos again, but at least there’s the satisfaction of knowing I’m not the only one thinking it—The reason for today’s photo shoot? The same reason for every other photoshoot Craig’s done.

@coachcraigcahn on Instagram.

‘It still doesn’t seem real, bro,’ Craig says to me. He’s got his shirt back on now and a protein shake in hand. No one’s eyes are on him now except mine. He seems far more relaxed with that, his big figure leaning against a doorframe. Next to him I feel a little like a giddy cheerleader in a locker room. It’s after the shoot, and Amanda is working with Pablo in the other room, choosing which shots go up on the site. We can hear the respective Photographer and Social Media Manager arguing about the ‘theme’ they want to convey.

Craig looks at me. He’s as lost as I am.

If you’d said the acronym _DILF_ to me six months ago, I’d have assumed it was teen-speak that had nothing to do with me. Amanda tried to spare me at first. She told me it meant _Dad I’d Like to Facebook_. Oh how I long for that innocence again. Craig is a certified DILF. I know this thanks to the comments of the thousands of under-agers that send his Instagram Hits skyrocketing every day. There was only so many times I could trace pimply teens called @hamburgerfucker or @jared1337osdick back to their mom’s Facebook page and type out panicked alerts to their beloved spawn’s cyber antics. That was in the early days. Seems so long ago now.

It all began in the months after Amanda’s graduation right before she was heading off to college. Money was tight and I was scraping together what I could to fund her. Honestly, the long hours were what I needed for a while in the months after everything that happened with Joseph.

Or what wasn’t happening.

 _Anyway_ , Amanda. She did some work of her own on the side. Commercial photography isn’t her passion but it went…actually pretty well. She took some action shots of Craig and the girls during softball practise just to get some variation in her portfolio. Unknown to anyone, Hazel and Briar had made their dad an Instagram account. Like me, Craig didn’t even know what Instagram was, let alone that he was on it. The account was full of pictures of him making goofy faces at River, him cooking some superfood stir-fry, a vid of him driving the girls to school in a big Cubs hoodie in his 2004 family Subaru belting out the Seven times-tables to a really dorky hip-hop number.

You know, doing Craig things.

It was actually a pretty cute shrine to their pretty cute softball coach dad, and it already had accumulated a small and dedicated following of Softball Mums. Then somehow the twins roped Amanda in and she started putting her shots up there and things kind of...

Just totally blew up overnight.

Half a year later and Craig is the internet’s ever-baffled-but-smiling darling. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing but that is apparently the appeal. Being a modest, good-hearted and stressed out single-dad on a mission to raise his daughters one quinoa salad at a time is apparently the Big Mood of the moment. He’s somehow straddled both the ‘fitspo’ market, and the hordes of parents needing to have their lifestyle of baby vomit and forgotten dreams validated as somehow _Mode_.

‘ _Ur so genuine, u don’t even realise how hot u are bby’_ sums up @craigcahnscockboy, one of Craig’s obviously more ardent fans. Damn, now why didn’t I snap up that handle for myself when I had the chance?

@craigcahnscockboy continues: ‘ _Wat I giv 2 hav you push me down in the pilows and fck me daddy—’_

There’s so much more, but I already hit delete on my phone. I’m the admin here, and mostly it’s just the bad spelling that gets to me most now.

‘What is it?’ Craig laughs. He sees the face I’m pulling. ‘I don’t want to know, do I?’

He really doesn’t. He mostly avoids his account these days, leaving it to Pablo and me. He looks at photos and just sees his flaws. He doesn’t seem able to see himself like the rest of the world does, and all the attention stresses him out. Like Craig needs more stress. His sports apparel line has gone ballistic. He’s being carried by Macy’s now and other offers are rolling in. Some other professional internet-person half his age tagged him the other day wearing his range and the online store actually broke. Managing Craig’s account and his business admin is my full time job now but honestly there aren’t enough hours in the day. We know it could all end at any time, so we are just going all out. I can’t believe this is a viable form of income but Amanda’s set for college, that’s for sure. College. I think about it for a second too long.

‘Bro,’ Craig says softly, noticing of course. He’s like that.

‘It’s been so great having Amanda home for Thanksgiving,’ I say trying to be cheerful, but I’m really just thinking about how today is our last day together before she’s back on the plane. I really miss her when she’s gone. I remind myself calmly, rationally, _like an adult_ , that it’s only a month before I’ll see her again for Christmas. That’s half the time it was last time. I suck it up.

Craig’s mobile starts ringing and he fumbles for it, excusing himself from me with slap on the arm and an apologetic thumbs up. I hear the instant tension in his voice as he switches into Business Craig. Poor guy needs a break.

He comes back after a few minutes with a glazed look in his eyes.

‘What?’ I ask. ‘Report.’

‘Uh,’ he rubs the back of his neck. ‘That was a scout for Nike.’

‘Fuck off,’ I say.

‘They uh, wanna fly me to New York next month to do some kind of Christmas promotion.’

Pablo and Amanda respond faster than I can, despite being in an entirely different room.

‘Do we get free shit?’ Amanda demands. She grabs Craig’s shirt front. ‘Do _I_ get free shit?’

‘Actually,’ Craig laughs with a sudden grin that could break the internet. ‘They want you on the shoot with their guy. Uh…I forgot his name. I wanna say Carl Shaun? Carl-o…Shine?’

‘Fuck off,’ my precious child swears. College has changed her. ‘You don’t mean Carlo Sian.’

Craig snaps his fingers. ‘Yeah!’

Amanda lets out a sound. It’s sort of like Godzilla in labour. She climbs on the table and yells more bloody victory and I let it happen because I’m going through some Grinch-like metamorphous of my own. My heart just grew three sizes. I have absolutely no fucking idea who Carlo Sian is but I’m assuming he’s a pretty down guy going by my offspring’s vigorous pelvic thrusting. I know she’s probably not going to be done for a while, and meanwhile I’m starting to realise something.

‘Wait, _Christmas_?’

‘Chill Bro,’ Craig anticipates. ‘She’d be on a flight back in time for Christmas Eve.’

I want to ask if Craig’ll be back too, but I don’t. I already know Smashley’s got the girls this Christmas and Craig probably needs something to keep him occupied. I’m honestly embarrassed to realise how much the thought of Christmas without him saddens me.

I guess it’s no secret to anyone that Ol’ Keg-Stand Craig has become a pretty big part of my life again. It was way too easy to slip back into our old dynamic. He lives two doors up, but his house has become basically an extension of my house and mine the vice versa. But that extenuating logic, my refrigerator is Hazel and Briar’s refrigerator. Since I work from home it’s easy for me to pick the twins up from school and have them round while Craig focuses on his shop. I’m getting pretty used to doing things with the comforting warm weight of River strapped to my chest too. I think that baby releases actual endorphins? Without Amanda around it’s been way too tempting to pour my love into Craig’s girls. It’s kind of totally crazy, but then so is the whole situation we are currently in. I never thought I’d be back here, middle-age, with my college roomie being the most significant person in my day to day life. In the back of my mind, I know the same thing I kind of always knew in my twenties about Craig and I.

We are each other’s place holder.

For the record, that this is purely platonic. I think. At least it’s the same it’s always been. I mean, Craig’s always known I’m gay as all hell, but it’s just not something we talk about. This’ll last for as long as it takes for one of us to start seriously dating someone. That’s how it sorta all fell apart last time. Still, a masochistic part of me can admit it is kind of exciting to live life one day at a time again, not knowing the future. And heck, I know nothing is forever. You just enjoy the moment you’ve got.

***

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

(POV: Craig)

  

I come home later than I said I would again, feeling pretty bad about it. Briar and Hazel will already be asleep. They’re not the only ones. My hand hesitates at the light switch as I take in the scene. There, illuminating in flickering TV light, is The Bro with River on his chest. They’re both passed out, mouths gaping, soft snores. So yeah. It’s pretty damn cute. I try not to wake them but I forget about the weights I have in my gym bag. It hits the floor with a loud thud and Will jerks awake. He quickly wipes away his drool as he comes back to his senses. 

‘Another late one?’ he says, bundling a still dead-to-the-world River in his arms. It’s not like he’s being accusatory or anything but I feel guilty as heck.

‘Man, I dunno Bro,’ I hear myself say. I sound so deflated I immediately have to turn it around. ‘I mean, it’s great being able to inspire people to take care of their health. It’s just…’ I trail off. I don’t really know how to put it into words. Am I really complaining about raking it in? I ran through the figures with my accountant just last week and I think about that. I’m setting my girls up in comfort, making sure they have every opportunity available. Not many Dads get that kind of peace of mind. But I feel…

Like a fraud, basically. I know I haven’t done anything to deserve this fame. I’ve been waiting for everyone else to realise it was a lucky break, but now, instead of things winding down: Nike. Meanwhile, I’m missing the actual whole parenting thing. t won’t be forever, I remind myself. I take River from Will and put her down for the night. She sleeps right through when she falls asleep on him. He’s has been a life saver in all of this, but I’m relying on him too much, I know that. I always kinda did in college. The number of essay’s he’d smash out for me the night before it was due. He always took care of me, there’s no way I would have graduated without him and I thought I’d gotten things together by now but here we are again.

After checking on Briar and Hazel, I return out to the main area. Will’s getting something out of the fridge for me. Bless him, he cooked. I can see at least four different vegetables no less and I have to say I’m very impressed.

‘I can…uh, heat it?’ Will says after some moments.

I come to my senses and realise I’ve been standing in the middle of the kitchen holding the plate and staring at it like it’s something precious. He prises it from me and with a laugh points me to the couch.

‘Relax,’ he encourages, but I know the second I sit, I’ll sleep, so I just lean on the kitchen bench. In that moment I’m struck with how good it feels having someone taking care of me. It’s been forever. Since… college. Then I have flash backs to kegstand days and that old familiar panic rears. What If I’m regressing back to that person I’ve worked so hard to change? Moving on from Will sucked when I was younger, but having to stand on my own two feet toughened me up for the better and I remind myself of that.

I try to intervene and microwave my OWN damn plate like the independent adult I am. Will however is having none of that. He swipes it out of my reach and darts away.

Oh no you don’t, Bro. I follow him but I’m tired and he somehow manages to evade me at every grasp, my fingers closing on air. He completes his lap of the kitchen and I see the empty microwave open like a set of goals. Undefended goals. I’ve played right into his hands. I propel myself for one final save but he gets it in, slams the door, and sets it for two minutes.

The glow of the humming microwave lights up his victorious face and I realise we’re kinda… pretty close. I’ve got him pinned in a tackle against the pantry. I can feel his body against mine. Am I going red? I feel hot.

‘Bro,’ I say. The word just comes out of me on instinct as I release him and restore a usual space between us. I laugh, but it’s kind of at myself. I’d thought myself pretty at home with the whole dude on dude thing these days—Most of my neighbours and friends are into guys after all, but yeah, I wasn’t always like this. Will was the first guy I met who was open about it, and back in the early 90s it wasn’t considered so okay. So the whole Bro thing?

  1. Was the only way I could rationalise the kind of intimacy we had.
  2. Kept that line drawn between us like my own subtly homophobic shield.



Years later when settled in Maple Bay, I’d reflect back on it all and see it for the thinly veiled cover up it was. _Bro_ meant like; “we gotta straight this moment up” …because I was definitely feeling gay.

Like, super gay.

I just hadn’t really known it consciously at the time. Or realised it was even an option. Or could have accepted it even if I had. Not back then.

Besides, there’d always been Smashley who I was totally into, and then Will had Alex and Amanda and not really much time for partying anymore or cleaning up after my antics. He grew up, and distant, and that’s the history.

*

New York is a totally different pace, but I’ve already got so much constant adrenaline in my body that I acclimatise to it fast. Carlo Sian is a really nice dude and he manages to put me at ease right away. He takes Amanda and me out for a tour on our first night to Downtown Manhattan. We’re having fun and getting a feel for working together for the coming shoots. He’s got a few places around the city in mind to try out and I feel kinda ridiculous having my photo taken in public but the people of New York are clearly pretty used to this. I mean there are tourists posing everywhere so I kinda blend in, and we walk past three different photo shoots with models freezing their arses off in zero degrees.

Carlo takes us on the ferry out to Stratton island. The Statue of Liberty is looking amazing, but it’s the New York lights reflected in the water that has Amanda buzzing. Carlo’s giving her tips on shooting landscapes at night and the two of them snap away the whole time. I can see she’s loving every moment. It feels pretty good to watch, but I think of Will at home taking care of the shop and everything for me while I’m away. He’d love to be here seeing this. I take out my phone while Carlo and Amanda are flicking through her shots and I snap a pic of them. It’s actually pretty nice. They’re leaning against the ferry balcony totally engrossed. There is a soft snow fall, and behind them is this incredible view of the city across the ocean. I send it to Will via Dad Book.

_Hey Bro, look at your girl impressing the pros!_

It must be pretty late back in Maple Bay, but despite the time difference he answers almost immediately.

_Holy shit._

_Holy shit holy SHIT._

_Hey Craig can I put it up on the account bro?_

It’s a great idea. I think Will’s picked up a lot from Pablo, he’s really getting the hang of it. Amanda’s own Instagram has already enjoyed massive windfall from mine, and I’m honestly more about that.

 _Hell yeah do it!_ I message back. We chat for a while, and I try to strike the balance between not boasting about what he’s missing and reassuring him that I’m having a blast.

 _How are you?_ I finally type, realising that up until now it’s been all about me _._

 _Currently living up the sights of your living room,_ he answers. _Power’s blown in my half of the cul-de-sac._

I start typing out that I’m missing him, but I think better of it and back space. The last thing I wanna do is seem needy.

Carlo swings his arm around my shoulders and I come back to earth.

‘Now, what are we smiling at?’ he teases in his melodic blended accent of Italian-Spanish. ‘Girlfriend? Boyfriend? I know that look.’

Ok, I admit Carlo's a pretty good looking guy in a totally intimidatingly cool way. He looks like a Euro Bruce Springsteen with his brown leather jacket and neck tie.

‘Woah’, Amanda says checking her notifications that are going _off_. I guess the upload completed. ‘Heeey,’ she laughs. ‘Sneaky.’

I laugh too, and totally forget I’m leaving Will hanging mid message. I’m living in the moment for the rest of the evening. The amazing moment. I only remember Will and Dadbook again when Amanda and I get back to our EAST SIDE apartment (courtesy of Nike, oh my god). I’m falling into bed at last and look back in the chat. Will had written more.

_Hey hope you don’t mind but some of the other dads are taking refuge here til the powers back on._

_Your house is so warm and ours are SO COLD!_

My mind immediately turns to Joseph. He’s Will’s next door neighbour on the other side than me and would have been caught in the black out too. I recall too that Mary has flown with the kids to her parent’s in Florida for Christmas. Joseph didn’t go with them because of “Church obligations he couldn’t get out of”. That was their story anyway, but where there’s smoke…

I get this vivid image in my head and I don’t like it. I know how Will feels about Joseph— how he _still_ feels about Joseph. I’ve been friends with Jo for years and years. I like the guy, but I know exactly what he’s like, too. My skin prickles and all of the sudden I’m very awake. My Dad instincts take over and I think of calling Will before I consider:

  1. He’s a grown man who can make his own bad decisions.
  2. I’m totally jumping to conclusions anyway.
  3. Besides, it’s like Three AM where he is right now. He’s probably asleep.
  4. But If he’s NOT asleep then I _really_ don’t want to know about it.
  5. It’s totally none of my business anyway and go the fuck to sleep Craig Cahn cause you’ve gotta be up at 5am for training.



_Sorry for late reply, BIG night,_ I answer _. Yeah np it’s totally fine bro._

***

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

(POV: Will)

 

Instagram is loving Craig and Amanda in NY. I think their followings have doubled since Nike posted their own pics of some behind-the-scenes. I saw a snap of Carlo Sian and wow. Craig’s really in with the Beautiful People now, no wonder Amanda is swooning. My dad instincts have me half convinced Carlo’s gotta be some smooth industry sleazebag coming onto my daughter since she is PERFECT AND TALENTED. I know this is mostly because anything otherwise is pretty much inconceivable to my fatherly pride. Still, I’m pretty glad Craig’s there playing chaperone right now and calming me with constant testimonials of what a great and genuine guy this celeb photographer is.

I’ve got an advent calendar sitting on the mantel piece and I’m not really counting down to Christmas Day so much as early morning December 23rd. This is because I’ll be driving to LAX Airport and picking up my Manda-Panda wearing the most embarrassing Christmas jumper I can dig up. That day is tomorrow, and that jumper is Rudolf. It’s a real doozy. I run my hands across the knitted reindeer face that’ll stretch just that little too much over my middle-aged bod. My fav part is the sparkly red pom-pom nose. Little does my dear daughter know that I bought a matching one in her size and wearing it to this year’s Christiansen Christmas Party is mandatory under my roof.

 

It’s a few hours later and the other side of midnight when I get a call. I’m sleeping like a normal person so when I try to answer my sleep brain doesn’t exactly manage a comprehensible greeting.

‘ _Mmmghllo_?’

‘Dad,’ I hear Amanda’s voice over the receiver and I’m one thousand percent awake in an instant.

‘What’s wrong,’ I say, able to pick up immediately on the stress in her voice: the frequency any parent is tuned to. One thousand sleazy Carlo scenarios pervade my mind. ‘Where are you? Are you okay?’

‘I’m _fine_ ,’ she assures but I’m not convinced. ‘It’s just…’ She sighs. ‘Dad there’s this big blizzard.’

I glance at the time, it’s Three AM my time. Three AM, which means she’s supposed to be half way through her flight by now.

‘It’s delayed,’ I gather. I hear her hesitate over the phone.

‘It’s a complete White-Out Dad. Everyone’s grounded. They don’t know how long the blizzard’s gonna last but… It could be days.’ 

I go into immediate damage control mode. Is she stranded? Where will she stay? Is it safe there? WAS THIS CARLO’S PLAN ALL ALONG?

‘Hey bro,’ I hear Craig’s voice on the other end of the phone and relief hits me immediately. Of course he took her to the airport, of course he waited to see her off and is still there now. I’m filled by this massive surge of appreciation for the guy.

‘I know you really wanted her home,’ he says. ‘But look, don’t worry about a thing, I’ve got it sorted.’

‘Thanks man, I mean it,’ I say. I’m pretty crushed, but I try to consider how this could have been way worse. I miss them _both_ , but Craig’s still got digs in the city and at least Amanda’s amazing experience can live on a little longer.

‘You gonna be okay, bro?’ Craig askes. Fuck he’s great.

‘Of course,’ I lie. ‘After hearing stories about previous Christmas Eves at the Christiansen’s it’s really for the best Amanda won’t be there to be corrupted. Or witness me be corrupted.’

Craig laughs softly into the phone. ‘Yeah, promise me you’ll watch out for the Eggnog, bro. It’s Mary’s recipe and something tells me Robert’s going to keep that tradition alive in her absence.’

‘I’ll make no such promise,’ I say thinking that Eggnog is exactly what I’ll need. In fact, I could honestly use some of it right now.

Craig doesn’t immediately respond. ‘Look, just—’ but whatever he was going to say he stops himself. ‘Have fun, okay?’ he opts for instead.

***

 

(POV: Craig)

 

Fast forward almost exactly twenty-four hours from when I last spoke to Will, and I’m freaking out.

I’m freaking the fuck out.

What am I doing? What am I _doing?_ What I’m actually doing are star jumps in the snow in the middle of the night. Where? On the side of an abandoned highway in minus four degrees in some arse end of Missouri. Why? I’m twenty hours into driving and sleep deprivation, and I’m not alone. Amanda is sleeping in the car. Starjumps don’t fail me now, god knows I need to find the inner calm. This is so irresponsible. This is crazy. _Come on Amanda I’ll get you there?_ What the fuck came over me?

I already know the answer to that. I just couldn’t let him down like the blizzard was somehow my responsibility. We’re through it now and turning back is impossible. The radio’s already full of closed off roads and deep snow warnings. There’s only one option here and that’s to continue down the road to California. I can’t shake this feeling like I’m letting people down no matter what. I blew off Nike to do this, and it’s not just my missed opportunity here, it’s the brand’s and everyone who’s been working so hard for it and right now star jumps AREN’T HELPING. Before I know it I’ve taken out my phone and I’m texting Will.  

_Bro you awake?_

Shit, why did I send that. He replies instantly.

_What’s up?_

I don’t answer immediately and another message comes in.

_You OK?_

I type back a reply:

_Actually don’t worry about it. Yeah everything’s fine man._

I think I’m in the clear and then the phone starts vibrating in my hand. He’s calling me. Fuck, if I don’t answer he’ll definitely start to worry.

‘Hey,’ I laugh into the receiver. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘Craig you absolutely are full of shit,’ Will says. Fuck. Can he read my voice that well? I guess I sound pretty out of breath. ‘Come on,’ he presses. ‘You can tell me.’ He’s got no idea where I am or what I’m doing. He thinks I’m still in NY. ‘It’s this whole Nike thing isn’t it,’ he assumes, and man he’s closer than he realises. I wanna confess everything but Amanda made me swear to keep it a surprise.

‘Craig, look bro,’ Will says, ‘If you wanna stop this whole account thing, you say the word. Anytime. Amanda, Pablo, me, we all support you one hundred percent either way.’

I reply eventually. ‘But…I wanna support you guys too. And my girls.’

Will hums his sympathy over the phone. ‘But it’s a lot on you,’ he says.

‘It’s a lot on _you_ ,’ I answer and I know I’m getting recklessly close to being frank about what’s bothering me. What’s kinda been bothering me for years. Will’s back in my life in a big way cause of this whole situation. If I give that up, what happens then with us? He’s got incentive, but if I stop holding up my end of things… He’s already gone his separate way once before.

‘Will, I don’t want it to be…’ Here it comes. ‘Like it was in college.’

There’s silence over the phone and my anxiety mounts. I clarify further. ‘I don’t want you feeling like you gotta carry me through again.’

‘Woah— Hold the frick up,’ Will says. ‘Me carry you? Who was the guy in college that had no friends ‘cept his poster of Liza Minnelli before you came along?’

I’m kinda stumped for a reply to that. (Oh Liza. The things she saw in the years she presided over our shared room).

‘Like, Craig Cahn,’ Will continues, ‘The nicest dude, who saved my literal arse from total social ostracizing? You made me cool, man. You made people see me for me, not the weird gay kid. You pulled _me_ through college.’

‘What?’ I think about it. ‘No way. Everyone liked you.’

‘Yeah, when they got to know me. Which they only did ‘cause _you_ rated me,’ Will said.

I’m clutching the phone in two hands. ‘But after college I just stayed this big kid, and you—’

‘Had Amanda and became the most boring tied down guy?’ Will interjects. ‘I love Amanda—no way I’d change things, but it sucked. You were living it up, and I was changing diapers. I was a total ball and chain for you.’

I realise how wildly at odds our perspectives are. Was _I_ the one that let thing go with Will? I thought he’d had no time for me, what, with him turning down our hangouts all the time. Now I have insight into fatherhood I didn’t back then and I think about it. Did I leave my bro behind?

‘Shit, Will,’ I say. ‘Was it really like that? I just thought you outgrew me.’

He sighs. ‘It wasn’t really you. I lost a lot of friends around that time. I don’t think I handled the transition into being a dad well.’

Fuck, I’m feeling the intense need to hug this out, but he’s still more than 1500 miles away.

‘Look bro,’ Will says. ‘You’re the most fun around plus the most caring guy. I like Craig Cahn now and I liked Craig Cahn then. And I’ll like you famous or otherwise. Just want you happy, man.’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘ _Hell_ yeah. Thanks man.’ I’m definitely ready to get back in that driver’s seat, stat. ‘Listen—I really gotta go now but…Bro. Seriously. Thanks.’

We say goodbye, but this isn’t over, not nearly over. My doubts are expelled. I know I’m doing the right thing now beyond a doubt. I get back in the car.

***


	4. Chapter 4

(POV: Will)

 

Picture this: A middle aged man sitting alone in his living room blasting The Eagles’ _Please Come Home for Christmas_ on repeat whilst wearing a lumpy reindeer jumper. That’s my reality this Christmas Eve, but then, at least there’s no one here to witness my shame. I’ve almost finished getting the moping out of my system. I can hear the fiftieth remix of Mariah Carey’s _All I Want for Christmas_ belting out from Joseph’s house and know It Is Time: My initiation into Cul-de-Sac Christmas.

It’s great that I live in such a caring community. I mean isn’t that what Christmas is about? Adopting the lonely neighbourhood weirdos for a night? I guess that makes me tonight’s guest of honour.

I peer out my window at the street coming to life. Apparently the Christianson Christmas Party is the biggest thing around. Pretty much everyone in Maple Bay seems to be showing up. His lit-up house is visible from space I’m pretty sure, and I suspect was the reason for that black out earlier last week. I’ve been pretty charmed the way he’s been stringing lights and impaling giant garden candy canes into the snow every evening after work, working with a sort of dogged determination. The result is spectacular. Just as I’m admiring it from the window, a hand slams smack in the middle of the glass.

I scream, and Robert reveals the rest of himself from his hiding spot (the trampled flowerbed under my window, RIP). He’s laughing of course, the bastard. I wonder how long he’s been there. Did he see me standing on my table screaming out my Christmas blues along with Glenn Frey? I know in my heart the answer is yes. Robert jerks his thumb backwards at Joseph’s house.

‘Coming?’ he calls through the glass, bending to hoist up a massive box of booze. Ho boy. I realise in this moment that may not actually _live_ to see my daughter again.

*

 

Some hours later an Robert has well and truly seen to my having a Very Merry Christmas. Damien, bless him, has affirmed that he will lend assistance in holding back my hair in the inevitable near future, but for the time being I’m holding it together _relatively_ well, I think. This party is kind of crazy. I honestly feel like I’m in college again living the Frat life which makes my old Partner-in-Crime’s absence feel all the starker.

‘Hey, has Craig ever done Keg Stands at one of these?’ I ask Hugo, Mat and Brian. They look at me in semi-disbelief. They think I’m joking. Oh Craig, you had a gift and you squandered it. I decide it’s my duty to inform them of a True American Hero and recount the glory days, though It’s kinda hard to talk over this particularly brassy version of Jingle Bells. Finally, it fades out as the next song takes over. The Dads exchange knowing glances as I take in the lyrics.

_Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree for me,  
Been an awful good girl—_

‘ _NO_ —’ Joseph shouts from across the room and performs a spectacular dive to the sound system. Tom Jones’ _It’s Not Unusual_ explodes into action.

‘Little does he know I’ve worked it into the play list at least seven more times,’ Robert says to us as he brings over more drinks (oh god). He refers, of course, to the infamous performance Mary treated the entire neighbourhood to at last year’s event. I’ve been told at least six times. She’d taken to the table-top and stripped down into a racy red fur-trimmed number and performed _Santa Baby_ doing her best Marilyn Monroe along with some of 2016’s raunchiest dance moves.

I laugh but I do feel for Joseph. I find him taking a moment of refuge in the kitchen throwing back a needed cheeky beer.

‘Hey you,’ he says to me with that easy handsome smile. Oh no, here we go. Joseph and alcohol and me. A dangerous combination. I didn’t plan on finding him alone. We’ve been seeing a lot more of each other the last week. I’m not blind, I know it’s cause Mary’s out of town. Somethings happened between them but I haven’t pried. Last time I tried to get involved in their marriage… Well it didn’t work out well. I’ve figured out Joseph enough these days to know he just can’t give it up with her, but right now he’s lonely and I’m here. The scary thing is how I’m feeling tonight— I might settle for anything. Married man or not, he’s looking at me with _that_ look and I recognise exactly what it means.

 I’m going to be getting really stupid with Joseph.

He doesn’t say anything as he takes steps across the room to me, eyes doing a careful sweep of a temporarily empty room. He backs me to the bench and I knock drinks everywhere. I barely notice.

‘Are we going upstairs?’ he says into my ear, all but taking the last of my power. Right before I yield he hears shouts and moves off me just seconds before guests burst into the room. They’re looking for ice and I assume they’re referring to the solid state of water but I could be wrong. He switches on _Joseph, Family Man_ for them as he assists but his eyes dart to me. I see for one dangerous second what’s simmering under that mask. Wanting. I get out of the kitchen, but deep down I know that I’m only delaying the inevitable.

 

(Pov: Craig)

 

We pull into the Cul-de-Sac and turn off the engine at last. It’s almost midnight, but we made it. I kind of can’t believe I just did that. I just drove forty hours across an entire continent. New York to California, that’s one hell of a road trip. Amanda and I took shifts between sleeping and driving, we peed on the side of many a freezing highway, we ate purely MacDonald’s, but we did it. I still honestly can’t believe I still had that crazy left in me, but teamed with determination and physical endurance it turned out to be a pretty unstoppable force. Besides, I can admit I haven’t had that kind of fun in years. I feel young and wild, and bravely stupid. Stupid enough to tell Will what I’ve resolved to, as soon as I find him inside. Forty hours in a car is a long time for self-reflection. When you’re pushing yourself that hard physically you start breaking down mental walls. You admit stuff to yourself that maybe you haven’t been honest about.

‘Amanda,’ I say, reaching under her blanket of burger wrappers and giving her a gentle shake awake. ‘Home.’

She wakes to the sight of a million twinkling Christmas lights in the snow. ‘Woah,’ she says. ‘Hey, is that Quizmaster Quinn passed out?’

On closer inspection, it is. We do the good thing and hoist him up and carry him back in, out of the snow. The party is about as nuts as I expected. Amanda is kind of frozen in the door way with wide-eyed awe. Maybe it’s the sleep delirium but I’m kind of stuck standing there with her. Why am I so nervous? I called off the whole thing with Nike to drive a bro’s daughter home nearly three thousand miles. I’d been so sure about what needed to happen between us but now that I’m standing here…

‘Come on,’ I say taking a determined step inside, and then another side-step around a pool of (Probably Quizmaster Quinn’s) vomit. ‘Let’s find your dad.’

Amanda takes to the task like a sniffer dog if a sniffer dog was a really excited puppy. She bounds off into the living room while I search the crowded hall using my height to the advantage. That’s when I see him up the far end at the bottom of the flight of stairs.  He’s crowned with one of those embarrassing Christmas cracker hats that no one actually wears. His face is flushed pinkly drunk, and he’s needing to grasp the stair bannister to keep himself upright. And he isn’t alone. There’s Joseph clutching one of those squat sixties James Bond Champaign glasses of Egg-Nog in one hand. His other is bracing against the wall by Will’s head. I recognise it for what it is. Joseph looks like the king of the locker room in a full force chat-up. I see him brush hair from Will’s unfocused, whiskey-faded eyes. I see the response—the welcome—returned in Will’s body, and feel the immediate tension knotting in my own.

Will turns and walks upstairs while Joseph inconspicuously mills around for a minute longer before following him.

I feel like a fool.

‘Can’t find him,’ Amanda frowns, returning to me. ‘Any luck?’

‘Uh…’ I shake my head. I’m trying to figure out now how to make a retreat to my empty home and pass out into oblivion. I eye the door longingly but see in its way the three gatekeepers of this hell: Damien, Mat and Robert. They notice me with surprise and wave me over. I realise deep in the pit of my stomach that there’ll be no escape now. What’s worse is when they all start looking for Will, and I’m stuck here, smiling, pretending I don’t know exactly what he’s doing.

Alone in New York wouldn’t have been so bad. It wouldn’t have felt like this.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok but @ America; what's up with y'all calling it a Cul-de-Sac?? Is this REAL? Do you really do this??? Do you not just call them COURTS like surely that's easier???
> 
> Thanks heaps to everyone who's taken the time to comment, kudos, subscribe and read so far, I massively appreciate it!


	5. Chapter 5

(POV: Will)

 

Joseph pushes me on the bed and the world spins as I hit the pillows. I’m so drunk. So fucking drunk. He’s on top of me. I’m remembering just how aggressive he is—he pins me down by the wrists. It’s hot as hell. It’s hard to think of anything else. Like _what the hell am I doing_ , for example. Joseph kisses me and I give to it. I’ve been wanting this for so long.

 _Well actually.._.

Something makes a connection distantly in the part of my rational brain. The registering of a contradiction. Actually it’s been some time since I’d really thought about the times I’d had with Joseph. It kinda seems so long ago, before everything with this whole Instagram thing and Craig—

I sit up and Joseph takes a moment to notice. He pulls back and fixes me with those incredible blues.

‘ _What_ ,’ he breaths and his voice comes out low and carnal. I shake my head trying to gather my thoughts and stop the world from spinning. I need to think. I push him back and shake my head dumbly. Why did this all feel so wrong suddenly?

‘I can’t,’ I realise.

Joseph sits back on his heels and examines me. For a moment I think he looks angry but that’s quickly extinguished. He nods his head, defeated. I feel for the guy, but this is familiar too. Last time that was me. With a spark of sobriety, I gain better insight into why Joseph broke up with me in the first place. I get why he did it, and now I’m definitely done with him. I’d be a pretty bad friend if I ever went there again, I see that now. We’d both regret it. He has Mary, and _I_ have—

Too much is hitting me all at once. In seconds, I’m sitting here totally _drunk crying_ before a bewildered Joseph _._ Me, a middle-aged paragon of manliness and maturity. Joseph recovers fast and takes action; this is apparently something he knows how to handle. He switches into _Youth Leader_ , putting his arm around me, while my poor soaked brain struggles to process what the fuck its thinking.

‘You’re right,’ he admits, getting kind emotional himself. I think this is really what needed to happen here. I sob it out for a while longer and then start laughing at myself, wiping my eyes on a pillow case. Together we resolve to return downstairs to the party when we hear Brian’s shouting up the stairs.

‘WILL?’ he booms. ‘YOU UP THERE? GOT A CHRISTMAS SURPRISE HERE.’

Joseph shrugs, equally clueless and helps me to my feet and then the door. Brian witnesses us emerge from the bedroom together and it looks pretty incriminating.

‘Our friend has a little too much,’ Joseph passes off. ‘Thought he should sleep it off.’

I’m too drunk to see if Brian buys it.

I manage to get down the stairs with help on either side from both dads. Shit, the booze is really catching up on me. That’s when—

‘DAD.’

I’m hit with 150 lbs of daughter. I’m on my back clutching her and I don’t understand what the fuck is happening but it’s wonderful and the drunk tears are flowing again in full force.

‘What? _What?’_ I manage. ‘ _How?’_

‘We drove. All day. All night. We stopped for nothing—Well, except animals.’

 _We?_ My heart skips a beat and I look up from her and notice him for the first time standing there. Craig rubs the back of his neck and shrugs.

‘Bro,’ he nods to me. It’s a pretty cool greeting but then he looks hella tired. Guy looks like he’s been hit by a steam train. I can hardly blame him after a drive like that. Joseph clasps a congenial hand on Craig’s shoulder being the good host. ‘Craig! You made it, what a fantastic surprise. Welcome, can I get you a drink?’

‘Thanks,’ Craig says. Yeah he sounds pretty wiped.

I suddenly think of ten minutes ago. I have never been more immediately thankful for avoiding a bad decision in my life. The newest problem at hand is now being articulated by my drunk ass self:

‘Oh no,’ I hear myself babbling. ‘Oh no, I’m too drunk for this. Too drunk—’

I was not prepared for Craig Cahn in this state. Not right after realising that I’m literally _crazy_ for him. The danger of the evening is certainly not over. I decide the best course of action is to try and avoid doing or saying anything to him until I’m sober. I mean I’m pretty sure if I get in a conversation with him in my present state then a lot of hella homo confessions will dribble out of me like a hot mess. That’s absolutely a conversation I need to approach sober, after approximately six months of rehearsal, and maybe also not surrounded by literally every person we know.

I fix my attention instead on Amanda, to whom I can be as gross and loving as I please. In fact, the more embarrassed I make her, the better I’m fulfilling my dadly duties. I know she doesn’t mind, deep down. Once she manages to finally escape me for the buffet table I jump to whichever nearest friend.

I do my best just to survive out the night but after I while I think my avoidance tactic has been way too easy. Craig’s making absolutely no effort to talk to me and as soon as I realise that the shoe changes foot. I manage to get a smile from him from across the room but he’s absolutely avoiding me and that really doesn’t sit well for a gentleman as thoroughly smashed and emotionally demented as I presently am. I decide to take things into my own hands.

*

(POV: Craig)

 

It’s been a couple of hours and I’ve put in enough of an appearance that I can now collect up the remnants of my quietly trashed heart and head to the door. No sooner is the decision made and I hear it: a long suffering sound from the other room.

‘ _Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaad_ …’

Definitely Amanda. I know I can’t leave my surrogate child to suffer alone, so regretfully do the right thing and track the beacon of embarrassed protesting back to the kitchen.

The early Naughties are having their way in here. Lady Marmalade is blasting but it’s nearly drowned underneath the uproar of wolf-whistling and cat-calling. I immediately see why. Woah.

Amanda forces her way through the crowd to me with the determination only someone of concert-going age possesses.

‘Glad to see pops having fun but maybe it’s time he calls it a night,’ she all but begs, clutching my arm in desperation. I just nod in agreement, honestly helpless to do much else. Myself and the entire party are transfixed by Will’s Coyote Ugly homage.

That he had practised this routine before was clear.

That he had waited his whole life for the moment to climb on a kitchen counter and pour bottles of whiskey over his chest was revealing before our very eyes.

That I find it actually kind of hot as hell was rubbing fresh salt into wounds. The Reindeer jumper only makes it better.

_And when you thought Christmas was as gay as it gets._

It’s over when he passes out, mid-routine. I recognise the signs first and manage to catch him in time. He comes to again in my arms. 

‘Did you miss me?’ he says.

‘I’m going to get going,’ I deflect. ‘Got be up early—‘

‘It’s Christmas,’ Will protests, pushing me off and staggering to his feet. ‘Pretty sure that’s a rest day by law or something.’

‘Sitting behind the wheel two days is enough rest, bro,’ I remind him. ‘It’s pretty late, walk you home?’

‘But it’s Christmas!’ he exclaims again. That’s his argument and he’s clearly sticking with it. I entertain leaving him here to his own ruin but I know I couldn’t let myself. Besides, you don’t let a smashed whiskey-drenched bro stumble home alone through the snow. My alternative is leaving him to Joseph’s care, and right now I’m feeling very aware of Joseph watching us from across the room. I don’t like the idea at all. Like, at _all_ , but I’m not going to be a selfish dick and stand in Will’s way if this is what he wants. The real reason I’m deciding not to leave him here is because I know it’s the wrong thing to do by Will while he’s this drunk, and I’m not sure Joseph does.

‘Come on, bro,’ I urge, softer, but firm. ‘I’ll get you home.’

He bites his lip and looks up at me with this _look_. ‘Yours or mine?’

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more update to go friends :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a delay but here is the final part!

(POV: Craig)

 

I get Will back to his house but he can’t find his keys. After some time we establish he must have lost them during his strip routine.

‘Amanda’s got one,’ Will says and I see how his smile widens. ‘We’ll have to go back—’

He's totally forgotten I’ve got one too but I’ve already decided he needs supervision. ‘We aren’t going back,’ I say, steering him instead to Casa Cahn, fumbling for that key with numb fingers.

It’s cold and dark inside. I’m blindly patting down the wall for the light switch or thermostat— whatever I find first—when I feel ice clasp on my belly.

‘Bro!’ I gasp nearly jumping out of my skin. ‘Your hands are freezing—’

 ‘So I’m warming them,’ Will responds. His fingertips slide beneath the waistband of my pants. I hit the lights and grab him by the wrists.

‘Bro, knock it off,’ I say. I’m at war with myself right now. I know I should be gentler ‘cause he’s obviously a mess, but I have to say I’m not impressed. He thinks I don’t know about him and Joseph. That’s one thing. But coming onto me in the same fucking night?

‘Just sleep it off, okay?’ I say pointing to the couch.

He goes red, taking back his hands and wrapping them around himself. ‘Yeah. Sure. Sorry man,’ he mumbles.

I go to my room and throw myself into bed finally.

This is not how tonight was meant to go.

*

 

I try and clear my head in the morning with an early jog. I think I’ve finally found my cool again, but as I round the corner back into the Cul-de-sac I see Joseph. He’s shovelling snow and picking up beer bottles from all over the totally trashed street. He waves at me and I know I can’t just jog by.

‘Get Will home all right?’ he asks me. ‘He went back to yours I assume? He wasn’t at his when I went to check on him last night.’

_Check on him._ I read this for the booty call it was. I’m not an angry guy, but shit, right now I’m just so mad.

‘Bro he was, like, really drunk last night,’ I say.

Joseph laughs at that. He doesn’t seem to read me. I guess I’ve become so good at shoving my feelings that I can’t even openly express anger.

‘You’re telling me,’ he says. ‘I think at least Mary’s _Santa Baby_ has finally been supplanted, thank mercy.’

I’m not good at this sort of thing, but I need to make it clear to him. ‘I mean he wasn’t able to make good decisions.’

Joseph just looks at me, playing dumb. I know there’s a dark side to Joseph, but I’m starting to maybe see something more manipulative that I even realised. I give him the look. _The Give It Up I Saw You Two Together_ look. He sighs, seeing the innocence act does no good.

‘He was perfectly capable of making good decisions,’ Joseph said flatly. Then he gives a sheepish, defeated laugh. ‘More-so than me.’

I’m not following. Joseph recognises this and makes it clear.

‘He turned me down, Craig.’

I don’t process this quickly.

‘I uh… _oh_ ,’ I only manage.

My heartrate starts going kinda ballistic. I know I’ll be able to look at my running app later and pinpoint the exactly moment I started hoping again.

‘Uh…' I manage. 'Why?’

Smooth.

Joseph rolls his eyes and laughs. ‘I have a feeling you should ask him that.’ He slaps me on the arm and gives it a warm squeeze. ‘Merry Christmas, buddy.’

 

Will is still passed out on the couch when I return.

Now I feel pretty awful about last night. I think over my rejection and realise with horror how flat out _arctic_ I must have seemed.

I put a glass of water within reaching distance of him and set to cooking the best Christmas hangover breakfast I can manage. I cover it with foil and hover around anxiously for a while as Will snores away. After some time I decide to check on Amanda over at the other house. She’s crashed hard after the drive. I try to wake her but all I pull from her is a long groaning reprise of Mariah.

‘ _All I want for Christmas is sleeeeeeep.’_

Rest in Peace.

When I get back, Will’s sitting up on the couch. He’s clutching his head, nursing no doubt one whopper of a hangover. He sees me and immediately avoids my eyes. ‘Listen, Craig, last night—’ he begins. ‘I shouldn’t have—I was really, _really_ —I know we don’t—’ he gestures between the two of us. ‘I mean, _this_ _isn’t_ —’

‘Isn’t it?’ I ask. Will stops. Something mostly like confusion and a little like hope flickers timidly across his face.

He’s waiting for me to elaborate.

‘Last night I thought I saw you and Joseph…’ I rub the back of my neck. ‘Yeah. He says I got it wrong. I thought you and him still… you know.’

Will shakes his head which he seems to immediately regret. Then he gets this coy smirk. ‘I think I was just… missing someone else.’

‘Bro,’ I say on instinct, because like in college this is one of those moments I’m feeling super into this. Except now it comes out of me as soft and intimate as I always really meant.

I sit next to him on the couch.

‘Let’s stop pretending this isn’t what it’s always been,’ I say.

That’s it. What I drove across the whole damn country to say. Hell, what I think I waited nearly two decades to say.

I take Will’s cheek in my hand.

‘So look,’ I decide. ‘I think I’m just gonna kiss you, bro.’

‘Yeah,’ Will says, his arms finding an easy (easy!) place around my neck almost like they fit there. ‘Yeah,' he repeats, 'You better do that.’ I can see his laughing eyes. He’s daring me, and I worry maybe he doesn’t actually believe I’m serious.

‘Like, _now_ , bro,’ I stress, giving him one last warning before I absolutely cross the line. ‘I’m totally gonna do it. I’m not joking around here. I’ve got this totally big, totally _homo_ thing for you. Like bro, there’s absolutely _nothing_ platonic about this, there never was. I’m _into_ you.’

Will grabs me and pulls my mouth down on his. And just like that, the thin line I drew in the sand all those years ago?

Washed away without a trace.

***

(POV: Will)

 

Things have calmed down finally.

After everything that went down over Christmas, Craig and I put our heads together and figured out the real priorities for the new year. I was ready to back him no matter what and I think that helped him finally work out what he wanted. And that was to shape up his mental and emotional health.

It was this which led to him putting a post up on the account, about how things would be slowing down going forward. I think he was pretty nervous about how it would get received, but he needn’t have worried—the support was overwhelming.

Pablo had gathered enough experience to work as a social media manager professionally and got snapped up by this indie music label that’s his perfect fit, meanwhile Amanda and Carlo kept in touch and have collaborated since Nike. My intimidatingly cool daughter is going to some pretty glam events now and definitely has big things ahead of her.

And Joseph.

Craig and I were out jogging when Mary arrived home with the kids. I saw that moment of anxious uncertainty between husband and wife before she smiled, he joked, and they fell back into each other’s arms.

I roll over to where Craig is dozing beside me in the morning light of a sleepy Sunday. River’s nestled between us and I listen to the steady thuds of the garage door outside as Hazel and Briar hit softballs into it. I check my phone and there are selfies Amanda’s sent me of her and some celebrity models I am too old and dorky to recognise. I wiggle closer to Craig and he wraps his big arms around me.

It’s a dad’s life, and bro, it’s a pretty good one.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading, subscribing and leaving the kudos(eseses???). If you read this story and enjoyed it I would really appreciate hearing back from you in the comments!! <3


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